A Word of Caution
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: His job is to advise folks to slow down, but THRUSH isn't inclined to listen, especially when chasing Napoleon and Illya. Now it's up to Old Ned to save them. A Working Stiff story


It feels like I've been here forever and maybe I have. It's one of those jobs where the lines blur the days. Those bleed into weeks, then months and years. This old shack and I go way back, so much so that I fixed up a little cot in the back and brought in a hot plate. The café across the road has nice facilities and there's a shower out back.

I ain't complaining, though. It's easy work and you get to meet some really nice folks. Course, you can get your share of stinkers, too, but they sort of take care of themselves. Don't know why some folks are so rude or in such a hurry to get some place, just to turn around and rush off to someplace else. I try to treat them all the same, but it ain't easy some days.

My shack is at the bottom of a treacherous bit of road called Devil's Fall, no 's'. It ain't really the name of the road, but it leads up into the town of that name, so it just sort of stuck.

Mostly what I do is stop folks and warn them to go slow up the road. It's a sheer drop on the right and there's this one bend that too many folks tend to drive right straight through. Then it's the state police cleaning them up off the rocks.

The ones who listen to me and take care, well, most of them end up okay. The idiots who think they know better, well, their chances ain't as good that they'll be checking into Millie's Hotel and having a bit of her apple pie. They tend to be checking out a different place entirely.

It's gotten to the point where I can tell the one who won't listen to me and then I hurry up by a back road and try to warn them to slow down before they head into the curve. Sadly, the success rate ain't good, but maybe that's what folks mean by destiny. The county put up sign, but they don't help.

They're gone and I'm still here. It gets a little boring at times, but I don't complain. Wouldn't do any good if I did as I got no one to complain to. Had a dog for years, but he up and died on me. Now it's just the travelers, some good and some stinkers.

I'll give you an example.

It was a perfect fall day. The hills were just throbbing with color and the sky was so blue it hurt your eyes. It was the sort of day that made a man take measure of himself and hope he's not coming up short.

I can hear cars long before I see them, so I was ready with my little handheld stop sign. As they round the turn, I start to wave it.

The fella driving was dark haired like I used to be. That was good. Dark haired fellas tend to listen better, but I don't know why. He braked slowly and eased the car off the side of the road, considerate like. He didn't need to worry 'cause we don't get much traffic, but I was touched that he was concerned about other folks.

"Finally, a local!" This yellow-haired fellow was in the passenger's seat and was holding a road map. It was all crumpled and catawampus. "Sir, could you direct us to Devils Falls, please?"

"No 's' in it. It's just Devils Fall, like Humpty Dumpty," I corrected automatically. "And all you two young fellas need do is follow this road along about twenty miles and you'll be there."

"Told you. Solo luck will out and you owe me lunch." the driver muttered and his friend made a face. I tried to hide my smile, but the driver saw it and winked at me.

He stepped out of the car and stretched his back. "Thank you so much. We have gotten all turned around, but you have some fabulous scenery." He looked out over the valley and smiled again. He has a nice smile, confident and pleasing. "Reminds me of back home."

I knew they weren't there to leaf peep, but I didn't correct him. "You have that right, Mr.-?"

"Oh, Solo. Napoleon Solo, and this is my partner, Illya Kuryakin."

"Ah, that's Russian, ain't it?"

"It is." He exchanged a look with the other fella, uh, Napoleon. "Are you are?"

"Nedley Folsom, but folks round here just called Old Ned."

Mr. Kuryakin held out his hand and we shook. "You are a life saver, Old Ned. We have been driving around in circles for hours."

"That's what happens when I let you navigate, Partner." There was such affection in Mr. Solo's voice that I knew these two were good friends.

"You fellas just be careful going up. There's a nasty hairpin turn towards the top. Take it slow and you'll be fine. You staying at Milly's?"

"We are," Mr. Solo said. "How did you know?"

"You look like Milly's sort of folks and there ain't another hotel in town. Make sure you try her apple pie. It's the best.

We exchanged a few more words and then they were gone. I didn't hear about any crashes the next morning at Tommy's when I was getting my breakfast, so I reckoned they made it.

Now skip ahead a few days. It was getting towards dusk and I always worry about cars at that time of the day. I heard a car roaring towards me and I held up a lantern along with my sign, standing off to the side of the road just in case they don't see me in time. I learned that lesson once the hard way.

The car slowed and I saw that it was my young friends from a few days earlier. They didn't look the same, though. They were all bruised and messed up looking. Their clothes were torn and dirty and they both looked just a little bit scared.

"Mr. Solo? Mr. Kuryakin?" Mr. Kuryakin was driving this time and he kept looking over his shoulder.

"Old Ned!" Mr. Solo's voice sounded hoarse, liked he'd been yelling a lot. "We are in a bit of hurry. There are some not nice men following us. You need to hide."

"You get along then, but mind that last turn. Tell Milly to add a little bit of whiskey to her whipped cream. It'll take the edge off. I'll see what I can do to slow them down a bit."

"Thank you, Ned, but be careful. These are not the most reasonable or pleasant men you'd want to meet." Mr. Solo pressed something into my hands. "If there's every anything I can do for you, just call the number on the card and let them know you are a friend of ours."

They drove off and about five minutes later I could hear another car approaching. I took my position and swung my light.

They stopped, but just barely. The bumper was brushing the fabric of my work pants.

"What the hell are you doing, you idiot!" The driver screamed out his window. "Get out of the way!" I was lookin' down the barrel of an ugly gun. "Get out of the way, old man, or I will shoot you and run over your corpse."

Obligingly, I stepped aside and they sped off. Idiots. I went around back and got into my little jalopy. They weren't going to make the curve and I was going to make sure of it. Call me an idiot, but nobody hurts my friends.

The look on their faces was very satisfying when they saw me standing there and watching them trying to stop was even more entertaining. Their car went sailing through the guardrail and out into the still night sky. The gravity realized it was there then and pulled it back down to earth. You'd think the screams wouldn't bother me anymore, but they are never pretty. At least I knew my new friends were safe.

The next morning, I was sipping coffee and watching the regulars. Most of them are so young, they don't even know my name. They ignore me and that's okay. You can learn a lot about folks by just shutting up and watching.

"Hey, Greg, did you hear about the crash last night?" A young state trooper came in and sat at the counter.

Greg, the short order cook, nodded. "I think everyone this end of the state did. What happened?"

"Didn't make it around Deadman's Curve." He lifted a hand for the waitress. "Strange thing, though, they didn't even brake going into the curve. It was as if they didn't even see it until it was too late."

"With all those warning signs?"

"Warning signs were all gone. Damned kids." I grinned. It wasn't the kids who took 'em. I made a mental note to put them back up after I finished my coffee.

The man's smile was devilish. "Old Ned?"

"Hey, now you treat that name with respect," the state trooper warned. "He's one person you don't want mad at you. At least the country is finally something about it. They're gonna put up a big retaining wall there and try to round out that curve. Old Ned is out of a job." He paused and shook his head. "I'm gonna miss him."

I smiled my thanks at him, but he looked right through me. That's sort of the problem with being a ghost, though. Everyone is in so much of a hurry that they look right through you. But the good ones, they stop, they talk and they care. And they really see you.

I took the card that Mr. Solo gave me and looked at it. My job here was done. I wonder if UNCLE needs any guardian angels to look after their fellas.


End file.
